


Wanderer

by dwarrowdams



Series: Tolkientober [12]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Regret, Tolkientober
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:27:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27104947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dwarrowdams/pseuds/dwarrowdams
Summary: Gollum reflects on the life he left behind.  Written for day 19 of Tolkientober (a villain).
Series: Tolkientober [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949476
Kudos: 2





	Wanderer

**Author's Note:**

> A month or so ago, I was reading the Old English poem "The Wanderer" and was struck by how much it reminded me of Gollum. It seems probable that this inspired Tolkien in some way (as an Anglo-Saxonist, he definitely would've read it, and the poem also contains some lines that may have been inspiration for the "Where is the Horse and the Rider?" poem that appears in Two Towers), but even if it didn't, the seed was planted in my mind.
> 
> Anyways, that's what inspired this piece. The poem is pretty easy to find online, although I like the translation by the Old English Poetry Project best (it preserves the alliteration and kennings in the original).

He did not often regret, but during some nights, it sat heavy on him.

Tonight was one such night.

He might be alone as he drifted down the river, but in his mind, he was with his kin before he had been cast out. When his hands met the icy cold water, he felt not its chill, since his thoughts dwelt in the warmth of his home, the affection of his aunt and his other kinsmen. He remembered the warm fires, the spiced mead, the good will and cheer that seemed to endure even in the darkest of days.

He had been given so much, and he had cast it away for his most precious treasure.

One hand drifted up to his pocket to feel its familiar weight. Normally, it brought him some comfort, but not tonight. It seemed that nothing but that which was lost forever could.

The one thing that could satisfy him was a warm hall and the greetings of his kin. He could imagine it well: their smiles at his arrival, the friendly greetings and jokes shared amongst them all, the food and drink that flowed freely well into the night, and—perhaps most importantly—the sense of camaraderie that came along with it all.

He heard a cry and looked up, thinking that perhaps it was the call of someone he once knew, but sighed with sorrow as soon as he realized that it was only the cry of the gulls. Their calls sounded to him like a dirge as he paddled: yet another reminder of how far away he was from that old life and how he could never return to it.

They had cast him out after he had obtained his most precious treasure, saying that it had twisted him into something he was not. He had given their words no more than a passing thought and felt little sorrow at the time of his exile, so enthralled by his treasure was he. It had distracted him well for year after year, but even the glimmering gold was a poor imitation of the roaring fire that warmed the hall.

It was still precious to him, but he found himself yearning for joys that it could neither provide nor replicate. He could not cast it away—not now, at least, for it was too much a part of him—but he wondered sometimes what would have happened if he had not forsaken his people out of his lust for the glimmering trinket.

Perhaps one day he would return to a warm hall and be greeted in a spirit of fellowship, but for now, all he had were the cries of the gulls and the chilled water surrounding him.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure how this week is going to go, since there are at least two days where I have no clue what I'm going to write, but I'll figure it out somehow.
> 
> Please comment if you enjoyed!
> 
> Tumblr: dwarrowdams  
> Twitter: @_tenderqueer


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